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Posts Tagged ‘depression’

Reoccuring Dreams

It all began just over 5 years ago, just after my dad died.

I had dreams so realistic, so emotional, I sometimes wondered if they were dreams or just memories.

Only if they were real they would be awful.

I dreamt last night that my dad was alive.  Again.

He had died.  I did his eulogy.  I led my family in planning the funeral. These things happened in real life and were a part of my past in my reoccuring dream.

But then, somehow, he was alive again.

Walking, talking, alive.  Still sick and dying, but not dead.

And then he died again.  And I am stuck dealing with all these emotions all over again.  The disbelief, the shock, the anger, then overwhelming sadness.

Even as I type, tears stream down my face.

His death was such a significant blow to my immediate family.  It destroyed each of us – my brother, my sister, my mom and I.  We each went our own way in dealing with it.

And I haven’t had to relive this (in a dream) for quite some time.

This dream was an indicator of how deep my depression was and always meant my meds needed to be adjusted.

But I am at the end of it all!  It isn’t fair or right to have this dream again.  I was done with dealing with the grief of losing my father.  How dare I have a dream of him living and dying again??

In this dream, I was surrounded by childhood friends, laughing and having fun.  Then my dad dies.  I am so angry by this that I refuse to participate in the funeral planning, much less give a eulogy.

I woke up from this dream, with the feeling that I had been sobbing for hours – the same feeling I had when my dad did die.  The feeling of sublime reality – is this what my life is to be like from now on?

I hate this dream.  I much prefer the ones where I have to go back to college to finish up a class (in spite of having a graduate degree – which is strange because I keep saying in this dream that I have a graduate degree but that I must finish one class to get my bachelor degree).  Or the classic forgetting your locker combination in high school.

 

 

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Not sure what’s wrong, but I hope this is a trend that will continue.  I have missed writing here – and missed hearing from all ya’ll and moreso, missed reading blogs.

Part of my hiding is that I have chosen to not know what is going on in the world.  This is a first for me.  Never have I secluded myself from the goings on in the world.  But I found myself becoming too emotionally attached to hearing stories of despair and sadness.

My goal is to be able to write here more often, read more from some of my favorite bloggers and contribute once again on the PF boards.  Each of these things have provided support for me in the past.  And I can either sit here and knit and hide in my little corner of the world, or I can do that AND try to be a member of the big world out there.

Let’s see how I manage …

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I just read this on another blog:

” Why is it that when we are depressed it doesn’t matter what we do to get out of the depression. We stay there until our body and mind decide for themselves to come out of it.”

Last year, I ran away.

I knew it then.

But I understand it now.

I ran away from all the monsters. You know who I’m talking about: Grief, Regret, Anger, Dispair.

But they followed me.

Only I also ran away from my family. And being away from them allowed me to find the strength within to fight each of these monsters, when my body and mind were ready to.

I’m in the middle of a funk. It happens every year at this time. Well, this is only the 2nd year I’m really going through it – 3 years ago I never expected my life to be like this.

God I miss my dad.

3 years ago we (mom, dad, BJD, my sis and her fam) all went to North Ridgeville’s Corn Festival. Dad and I split some bbq ribs (which is HUGE because I have this meat fetish – I can’t eat anything if I know what it once looked like). They were gu-uuhd. Then I had some of Sweet’s sweet corn, festival lemonade and some sweet stuff.

That night, dad suffered a massive stroke.

That night, my world collapsed.

But I didn’t realize it.

I stood by his side, every day, for 6 weeks, praying for my soul to stay strong so that my dad could lean on me and get better.

I fought with my mom about him coming home – that was all he really wanted – to be home. Oh to be home and to be able to take a shit in the toilet. Maybe that’s all he really wanted – to not wear a diaper and have someone else wipe his ass.

I was willing to give up my career, my marriage, my everything, just to make my dad whole again.

And that bastard of a monster called Regret, still lives on in my head.

Oh I know that I did all I could.

I know that. (do you?)

But it’s just like being a preemie parent – you know there was nothing that you could have done to cause the premature birth of your child (and subsequent health issues) but you sure do seem to enjoy beating yourself up about it.

So this is my 3 year anniversary of not having a dad anymore.

This is my 3 year anniversary of when my mom changed everything she physically could to escape, of having a hellish pregnancy, of my family just disintigrating and me not having a clue why, of losing my faith, of finding it again and of making the decision to move to Germany.

This anniversary will end on September 25th, the day my dad died.

Though realistically, it will only end like that stupid Green Day song “When September Ends”.

God, I am SO thankful this next baby isn’t due in September.

I hate September.

Only to be followed by October – which BTW, my birthday is exactly 1 month from my dad’s death date – October 25th, to be followed 1 week later by dad’s bday – Halloween.

At least I’m here in Germany, where autumn is cold and rainy (just like winter) and not in beautiful (and I mean that honestly) NE Ohio, where autumn still remains my favorite season with the vibrant colors and the smell of frost and the preparations for winter and snow …

But now my depression from the last 3 years is gone. My mind is stronger. My body is too. And while I still mourn all that I lost, I can live. Because that’s the one thing my dad can’t do anymore … live.

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